Phantasmagoria
by alolha123
Summary: As soon as he enters the scene, Heiji knows something isn't right. The light is off at the dilapidated shack and it's silent. Too silent, he thinks in alarm. Chapter 185 from the manga: Hattori Heiji's dream. Extremely angsty. Character death.


Wow. I never thought that I'd actually write a Detective Conan fanfic. I thought I'd write a Full Metal Alchemist or Bleach fanfic before this... but here I did. And an extremely angsty one, too boot. Uh, I'll just give the warning that it's extremely angsty. Character death.

This is based on Hattori's dream he mentions in Chapter 185 of the manga. (I'm not sure of the anime episode, sorry.) Apparently he's trying to stop a murder and he ends up getting stabbed... and Kudou dies, as well. How I have interpreted this? I'll let you read.

I do not own Detective Conan.

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(Please come_, the bloodied letter reads_; I live at a small house out of the way of society, but recently I've been getting death threats. I also can't shake the feeling that someone's stalking me—)_

(Sir, the policeman says. We're found the body, along with others, aside a river—)

As soon as he enters the scene, Heiji knows something isn't right. The light is off at the dilapidated shack and it's silent—_too silent_, he thinks in alarm—but that doesn't stop his feet from mechanically walking towards it. He's a detective, he tells himself. And he's flanked by ten-plus policemen. It's ridiculous to think that something would happen to him at this moment.

_(Heart thuds; ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.)_

The garden, which completely encompasses the whole of the front yard, shows signs of long-term neglect; and that analytical mind of Heiji's begins to barrage his thoughts with questions. Why is it so unkept? Why are there only daisies and a few rose bushes? Is there a meaning in the placement of the bushes?

He needs answers, and those answers, he thinks, will undoubtedly be in the shack.

So he advances towards the door; but about a step away from the door he suddenly freezes.

_(Someone's watching him with cold, silently infuriated eyes, and his back stiffens as a roving gaze pierces it.)_

Heiji doesn't respond when a policeman asks him what's the matter, and he thinks bitingly, _They must be senseless if they can't feel what I'm feeling! _

Swallowing his fear, he pushes open the wooden door and immediately thrusts his flashlight out. The light won't stop that watcher from staring at him, he knows; but that false comfort will somehow calm his nerves, won't it?

Up goes the light; down; to the side, into the corner, up at the beams, and he can't find anything. Nothing is there.

But he still can't stop the sweat from crawling down his neck, and that nervous feeling that something horrible is going to happen.

_(Room closing in. Is this claustrophobia? Or is it something else?)_

He whips around as a policeman taps his shoulder—_What are you doing, murderer!_ are his first thoughts that flash into his mind, but as he sees the startled man Heiji forces himself to calm down.

Kudou Shinichi's here, the man says, and Heiji is at first confused—_why would Kudou be here, he didn't need to come, I had it all covered,_ rang his pride—but then he is relieved. _Kudou is here,_ his sense says, _and he'll figure this puzzle out._

Hattori?

Kudou.

How does it look?

I don't know. I haven't gone in yet.

You haven't gone in yet? That's strange, from you.

(Not _so_ strange, Kudou.)

Let's do this, shall we?

Kudou walks past Heiji—_how can he stand this pressure?_ Heiji asks himself in awe, before then responding to himself, _he's Kudou, he doesn't even feel these sorts of things_—and stops for a split second at the door. Then, without pause, Kudou pushes the door open with no hesitation whatsoever.

It's dark inside. Just like the growing feeling inside Heiji's own chest.

_(Can't breathe, can you? _the voice mocks_.) _

Almost unconsciously Heiji's feet work themselves, leading him behind the other detective. His mind is confused; out-of-sorts; bewildered; and he can't observe anything. Father has always told him what to look for at crime scenes, but here, he can't remember anything. A wooden pike, a staple in the wrong place, marked dirt—what of it?

Kudou is musing out loud as the policemen behind both of them flash their lights inside, looking for something suspicious, anything suspicious—out-of-order, whatever! But Heiji pays no attention. By now, he is literally shaking with fear—_this heavy feeling, this is fear? I never knew it so _well_ before_—

A policeman gives a shout, and nearly drops his flashlight in the process. A lump of clothes—how could he have _missed_ that—is moving violently, and a shriveled, sere, bloodstained hand pokes out, and a dark silhouette erupts from the clothes and rushes at them.

Heiji can't do much besides stare, horrified, at the man, and in a flash, he feels the breath knocked out of him as someone hits him and—

_Ouch_, the ground, but _no_, there isn't time to think of that—!

He rises as fast as he'd fallen and rushes at the attacker, first grasping for the shining knife in the murderer's right hand and then the left hand—but no, he's too late, the man's left hand has already punched his face, and Heiji sees stars.

He sees red, too, as a pain erupts furiously in his lower left abdomen, and with bleary eyes he glances down and is strangely unsurprised to see blood gushing out of the wound.

Kudou gives a cry, but Heiji isn't quite sure if he heard it or not; all of his senses are strangely blurring.

_(Locked in a fantasy) _

Time doesn't go quite as fast as he wants it to; the scene seems to slow down, and Heiji watches silently as the murderer first tears open a policeman's stomach with his knife, and then another. Kudou—

_No,_ he wants to shout, _Kudou! Don't go there! He'll kill you!_

_(Room closing in)_

Kudou is fighting with the man better than he did. He's struggling, and fighting literally for his life—and _yes_, he's got the upper hand, he's grabbed onto the hand with the knife and backed the murderer against a wooden pillar—

_Stop him, Kudou!_ Heiji hears himself scream—but no, in reality (is that even something he can _say_ anymore, when he barely knows what it is?) he just whispers.

He feels the air suddenly disappear when a rapidly growing crimson stain appears on the back of Kudou's shirt.

_(Can't breathe, can't think)_

_Kudou,_ he croaks, as the teenager slumps and collapses beside him. The boy's eyes are glassy and dilated, with the mixed expression of determined and horrified on his face.

_He's dead,_ Heiji thinks, and after a moment, he fully realizes what he's thinking.

He's dead.

_He's dead, he's dead, he died, he's dead—_

And he'd done nothing to stop it.

_(So this is the limit of the great High School Detective of the West?_ the voice sneers._)_

Can't be real, right? Heiji hopes, and tries to breathe but fails.

The air is still, and Heiji knows he should be thinking, _the ten policemen with me, are they also dead? Is the murderer still there?_

But no, all he can think is _Kudou_.

Kudou is dead.

_(He's failed Kudou, hasn't he?) _

The glassy eyes stare back at him, and he feels a warm liquid collecting at the edges of his eyes. His vision is blurry, again.

But not from dizziness.

_(Ostinato)_

The tears slide down his face—no, vertically, he's lying on his _side_, after all—as the blank gaze stares at him back.

But all Heiji sees is the dark red stain growing on Kudou's back, and the metal piercing through his back.

_(Just keeps repeating and repeating and repeating and repeating and—)_

Can this be happening?

It _can't_ be, right?

Because Kudou—Kudou Shinichi—is _invincible_, isn't he?

Isn't he?

Heiji thinks that his former thoughts were the thoughts of a naïve child.

_(In the end, aren't I only one person?)_

-

_Hattori Heiji wakes up, sweating and panting like he's never done before, bends over, and tries very hard not to remember._

_(Let's do this, shall we?)_

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How about: Let's all thank Gosho Aoyama for never putting this in the manga/anime, shall we?

Remember, reviews are loved. Very much.


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